


Comes And Goes In Waves

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Spoilers, The X-Files Revival, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Turning to look at Mulder, she knows he'd follow her anywhere if only she'd ask, but this is something she has to go at alone."// Short speculation based on a scene featured in the revival special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comes And Goes In Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from the song by Greg Laswell. I honestly don't know what happened, but I couldn't get this scene out of my head after watching the special, so this is me filling in gaps. When Scully cries, I cry, so it's fine. Thanks for reading!

"I can't help but think of him, Fox."

Mulder wraps an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer and pressing a kiss to her temple. There are only a handful of times she's used his first name seriously over the years. A night early in their partnership, trying it on for size. An afternoon at the office when she'd tried pulling him from whatever paperwork that seemed important at the time, and for reasons he can't recall now "Mulder" wouldn't suffice. A chilly winter morning before a judge, legally binding them together days before the world was supposed to end. There are others, but rather than trying to recall them he focuses instead on the subject of her sentence: their son. "Me too. But you can't place all the blame on yourself, Scully. If I'd stayed, if we'd done things differently, then maybe-"

"Should we really be doing this right now? Hypothesizing about a life we'll never have? A life we gave up?" her voice cracks and a tear spills down her cheek. She stares out, watching as waves crash against the rocky shore. She closes her eyes and for a moment lets herself imagine a teenage William, all limbs and tousled red hair and freckled cheeks, standing at the water's edge. "I want to believe the right choice was made. That somewhere out there, our son is alive and safe."

He wants to tell her that she's right; hashing out scenarios of what might have been probably isn't the greatest idea, considering emotions are already heightened. But this is the most they've talked about William in years, and he's masochist enough to allow himself to wallow in thoughts about him. He feels her head rest against his shoulder and he hears her fail to suppress a sob. Despite everything that's happened between them, he's grateful that she lets herself be this vulnerable, trusting him in such an unguarded moment. "I'd like to believe he is, too. The alternative is just unthinkable."

She feels his fingers flex against her shoulder and she reaches over, tentatively resting her palm against his knee. They have an unspoken language, a code written only through touch, that is uniquely their own. So much has changed over the years, but she's glad to see this hasn't. Still, there are rules about this sort of thing. As good as it feels, ripping off the band-aid and exposing what's underneath, she can't help but be afraid of bridging the gap too much too soon. She'd come to say goodbye to her mother, and Mulder hadn't even hesitated for a second when she asked if he'd drive her. She hadn't counted on a walk down memory lane that eventually diverged into talking about their son, and gets the feeling it isn't the last time they'll be having that sort of conversation, but for once the thought of it doesn't fill her with regret. The reality of what she's come here to do beckons, and she reaches for the urn sitting next to her feet.

He watches her lift the container, one hand cupping the bottom and the other gingerly holding the lid closed. The wind kicks up, blowing strands of hair in her face, and he reaches over to tuck them behind her ear. "Do you want me to walk with you?"

Scully bites back a sob and shakes her head. She hates how light the urn feels, as if her mother's life could possibly be condensed to such a small mass, and she wishes not for the first time that work wouldn't have kept her brothers away at such an important moment. Turning to look at Mulder, she knows he'd follow her anywhere if only she'd ask, but this is something she has to go at alone. "I appreciate the offer, but this is something I need to do by myself. I won't take long."

Tears prick his eyes as they both stand, his hand resting at the small of her back for a moment before pulling away. "I'll be in the car. Take whatever time you need."

A shiver runs through her as she darts her tongue out, moistening parched lips. "Thank you," she says, her voice little more than a hushed whisper as she watches him walk back to where they'd parked. After all the world has put them through, they're both back in the car, figuratively speaking. They're back to striving towards a common goal, even if that goal hasn't always been clear. Before Maggie died, she'd had a moment of lucidity where she'd told Scully how happy she was that she and Mulder had finally worked things out. Scully didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't entirely correct, but as she thinks back on how much she's relied on him-through long days in the ICU, through saying goodbye-she realizes her mother wasn't too far off the mark. She takes a deep breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs as she walks towards the water, thinking of beginnings and endings, and how when she's done Mulder will be in the car, ready and waiting.


End file.
